


Tears and Fears

by hondagirll



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Family, Father-Son Relationship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-25
Updated: 2009-07-25
Packaged: 2020-01-16 12:24:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18521473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hondagirll/pseuds/hondagirll
Summary: Sometimes it just takes a simple conversation with your dad to make it all better





	Tears and Fears

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the 2009 Weasley-fest on LJ for kath-ballantyne | first posted [here](https://weasley-fest.livejournal.com/57739.html)

Hugo was hiding.

The leaves from the tree above shaded him in the late afternoon sun, causing a trail of goose bumps to appear on his freckled skin. His bottom was cold from sitting on the damp ground and he was a bit chilled; having run outside without a coat, but Hugo didn’t care, he was hiding.

“Hugo,” came a voice from the other side of the garden. “Are you out here?”

Hugo gulped and scooted his little body backwards, until his spine smacked directly into the tree trunk behind him. He hunched over, trying to make himself invisible. He didn’t want his dad to find him. He was hiding after all.

“Hugo!”

His dad’s footsteps grew closer until Hugo could see his trainers peeking through the gaps of the bush in front of him. He shivered, still not saying a word. Suddenly though, Hugo’s nose started itch and he was unjustly attacked by the strong urge to sneeze.

_“Achoo!”_

“Hugo?”

Ron peered over the bush and a moment later, Hugo saw his knees as he squatted down on the ground beside him.

“What are you doing out here, son?” asked Ron worriedly.

Hugo ignored him and turned his head, wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve. After a brief pause he answered, “Hiding.”

“Oh.”

Even though Hugo couldn’t see him, he knew his dad was bobbing his head. His dad often did that with his mum when he didn’t know what she was saying but didn’t want her to know he didn’t know what she was saying. If Hugo wasn’t so upset, he would have thought that was funny.

“So why are you hiding?” asked Ron. “I thought you were going to Auntie Ginny’s to play with Lily.”

Hugo scowled and looked at the ground, using his index fingers to draw a few of lines in the dirt. He raised his hand briefly, pleased to see the mud caked underneath his fingertips. Mud under fingertips was hard to get off, no matter how many Cleaning Charms his mum gave him.

“I’m not going to Auntie Ginny’s,” Hugo said indignantly, “I hate Lily!”

“Hugo,” his father said, frowning. “That’s not nice.”

“Well it’s true,” exclaimed Hugo as he pouted and crossed his arms, the dirt from his fingers now being wiped onto his jumper. “I do.”

His father sighed. “What happened?”

“Nothin’.”

“Hugo?”

Ron leaned over and put his finger under Hugo’s chin, lifting it gently. His finger was cold and Hugo squirmed and scrunched his eyes close. “Hugo,” Ron demanded softly, “Look at me, son.”

Hugo slowly opened one eye, then the other as he peered up at his dad. He expected his dad to look angry but instead, Ron looked tired and more then a bit concerned. “Now,” he said, tapping his fingertip against Hugo’s chin. “Why are you mad at Lily?”

“Because.”

To his horror, Hugo discovered tears welling up in his eyes and he swallowed the lump in his throat, carefully avoiding his father’s gaze. “She called me a baby.”

“Hugo–”

“I’m not a baby! I’m almost six! Lily was being mean just because she knows how to fly and I- I don’t. And Uncle Harry got her a new broom and- and it’s not fair,” Hugo finished hurriedly, swiping at his eyes.

“Hugo.”

Ron quietly moved over and leaned his back against the tree trunk, stretching out his long legs. He turned his body neatly and casually picked up Hugo, setting him down on his lap. Hugo leaned in and pressed his face to the front of his dad’s robes, embarrassed to be caught crying.

“Okay mate, okay,” murmured Ron gently as he held his son tightly, his hands rubbing slow circles on Hugo’s back as he rocked them both back and forth in a soothing motion. “Let it all out now.”

“Hate Lily…stupid broom…scared…of…”

“Shhh,” said Ron, his voice quiet. “Okay, okay.”

Hugo sniffed loudly, snot dripping down his nose. He burrowed further into his father’s embrace, hiding his tear stained face against Ron’s stomach. They sat like that for awhile, the two of them, until Hugo’s tears stopped.

“Better?” asked Ron, breaking the silence.

Hugo nodded, but didn’t say anything. He felt his father chuckle, felt him shift, murmur something and, a moment later, lean back and present Hugo with a dry handkerchief. “Here Hugo – _blow_.” Hugo blew his nose. “Now, you're upset at Lily, right?”

Hugo looked up, tears still clinging to his copper eyelashes as he nodded. From this close, he could make out every freckle on his father’s face; there were loads of them. “Lily can fly. I can’t,” he said simply.

His father let out a big sigh and suddenly, Hugo was reminded of all the times he tried to teach Hugo to fly but Hugo refused.

“Hugo, are you–”

Here Ron paused, as if almost unsure of what to say next. Hugo’s hands gripped the front of his father’s robes tighter as Ron continued on, his voice calm and soothing.

“Are you afraid of heights, son?”

Hugo nodded, ashamed. He was the four the first time Rose got mad at him for taking her Wilenda the Squib Princess doll and tearing all its hair off. She caused the rug on which Hugo was sitting –and Hugo, by extension- to float up, trapping him in the corner, in between the ceiling and the wall. It took his dad and his Uncle George a good five minutes to get him down; his sister’s anger was that intense. Hugo had been terrified of heights ever since that day.

Hugo wiped his eyes and sniffed. “I’m never going to learn how to fly. Lily’s right, I am a baby.”

“No, you’re not,” Ron said, stroking Hugo’s hair. “You are not a baby. Who helps me feed the cats?”

“I do,” said Hugo in a small voice.

“And who cheers with me whenever the Cannons score a goal?”

“I do,” replied Hugo, his voice growing slightly stronger.

“And who kills the spiders for me when Mum’s away and Rose is busy reading?”

“Me!” exclaimed Hugo, beaming.

“Exactly. Now,” Ron’s tweaked Hugo’s nose. “Would a baby be able to do all that?”

“No,” said Hugo, feeling better then he had all day. “They wouldn’t.”

“Alright then. You, my son, are not a baby.”

Hugo ducked his head. “But I still don’t know how to fly.”

“Hmmm,” Ron shifted and shook his head, motioning for Hugo to stand up. Hugo scrambled to his feet and Ron followed, dusting the dirt off his robes. Hugo did the same.

“Well, then. On that front, I have an idea.”

Ron held out his hand and Hugo took it, slipping his small, freckled palm into his father’s larger one. “Come on.”

\- - -

Twenty minutes and two Cleaning Charms later, Hugo watched his dad get his training broom out of the old gardening shed. Despite his father’s earlier reassurance, Hugo still felt incredibly nervous.

“Dad,” he asked, hesitantly. “What if I fall?”

Ron stopped and looked down at Hugo, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. “One, I’m going to be with you so you are not going to fall and two, there’s this.”

Ron took his wand of his pocket and waved it, muttering under his breath. Hugo watched in amazement as their yard was suddenly transformed. The grass underneath their feet was changed into a soft, rubbery kind of foam. The trees around them got coated in a thick material that hid any rough edges and even the fence at the end of the yard became even and flat.

“See,” Ron gestured to now pliable ground. “Try it.”

In shock, Hugo leaned down and gently touched the ground, the texture now soft and buttery under his fingertips. He pressed down flat with his palm, not surprised to feel complete and utter softness. He looked up at his dad, beaming.

“It’s soft,” he exclaimed in wonder.

Ron nodded. “Yep, so see, even if you did fall –which you won’t,” he hastily added, noting the sudden look of concern on Hugo’s face. “It won’t hurt.”

“Wow. That is…that’s _brilliant_!”

Hugo scrambled to his feet and threw his arms around his father, even though they couldn’t quite reach all the way around Ron’s waist. “Thanks Dad.”

“Anytime, son,” said Ron, squeezing Hugo briefly. He pushed Hugo gently back and offered him the broom handle. “So…are you ready?”

Hugo nodded his head and took the broom slowly, a confident look in his eyes. He met his father’s gaze and smiled. “Yes. I’m ready.”


End file.
